Poetry and musings on life

THE KITCHEN AT WAR

Mrs Taylor rushed from the house leaving the unwashed breakfast crockery in the dining room. The kitchen was incensed!

“you wont be able to use us now,” the taps dripped into a bowl. The bowl banged the sink. “Tell the taps to stop dripping or knives and forks will crash into soapy water and make a big splash, when Mrs Taylor comes home. The taps will have to cry buckets.”

“I got used to stir the tea,” interrupted the egg spoon. “I’m rather brown. I was silver.”

“Be quiet,” ground the cheese grater through gnashed spikes. “I’m gonna keep some of the cheese when they shred it. That will teach them. The taps will have to run at full flow.”

“Please let’s settle this argument peacefully,” the taps gushed. They were twins except for their hats.

“You’re just pretending to be reasonable,” the bread knife said cuttingly. “I’ve bathed under a few taps in my time, but you’re the limit.”

“Mmm… you have a long history,” mused the vinegar bottle with a touch of acidity.

“Really!” exclaimed a tea cup. “let’s round this off nicely with a drink.”

“Nicely!” exclaimed the sugar tin. “You haven’t even got a saucer.”

“If you think I’m putting up with this,” wobbled the door handle, “I’ll get stuck. None of you will enter the dining room.”

Silence……………

“You’re a drip,” tinkled the red capped tap to the blue one who answered, “You leave me cold.” The red capped tap let slide a hot tear. The bowl smirked.

“When I’m full I’ll invite a lot of plates to a bubble party. I’m tired of you two ruling above me!” cried the sink. The tea towel flapped nervously.